


Primordial

by Fastforwardmotion



Series: Aisa Stormshield [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:30:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fastforwardmotion/pseuds/Fastforwardmotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aisa reaching epic tier and her first meeting with Mathus. Prickly, which surprises no one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primordial

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how fast you read, but may I suggest starting this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nmwZZPKvyA&index=12&list=WL at “Picking up the pace, she pushed her way out of the estate…” it makes the purple prose a bit more bearable.

A cry of triumph rose in the hall as the Unchained marched through the estate. Aisa, flanked by Muk and Maeve, stalked up to the main study, intent only on the target she’d watched flee into the room moments earlier. 

As the doors swung open, ‘Master’ Trevin staggered back against the opposite wall, his arms raised in defense. 

“Please.” He begged. 

In an instant Aisa was before him, magic surging through her blood, eyes narrowed in a quickening rage. She pulled at his hair, hoisting him to his feet. 

“Did you think we would not see the horrors you’d inflicted on your slaves?” She whispered. The walls rattled as power built around her. 

“That we would miss your prisons, your little playroom?” She stepped close, crowding him against the wall, axe pressed flat to his throat. He whimpered as a drop of blood trickled down his neck. 

Aisa brought her axe down on his arm. 

“Did you think we would ignore the mangled bodies?” Her voice rung out over the agonized screeching, “The _CHILDREN_?” She brought the axe down again, severing his other hand at the wrist. 

Lightning coursed through her body; power sparked dangerously from her eyes. She pressed a hand to her eyes and stepped back from Trevin as he slumped to the floor. 

“How much did they beg?” She shouted, “How _long_ did they _suffer_?”

She threw her axe at his knee and with her free hand drew another. 

“All these riches, bought on the backs of slaves. And you expect ‘please’ to save your life.”

She knelt down to drag the axe up the muscle of his thigh. Agonized wails bubbled from his throat and she shushed him, hand rising to grip at his mouth. 

“My only regret,” she whispered, “is that I don’t have the time to make you suffer.” 

She pulled the blade from his leg, studying the edge as she brought it to rest at his sternum. With a final shove, she pushed the axe through to his heart. The room stilled when the screeching came to an abrupt halt. 

“Boss…” Maeve hazarded a step forward, hands raised in defense. 

Aisa staggered back from the wall, fighting desperately to hold on to what remained of her frayed control. 

“Hey, I think you got him.” 

A small hand pressed against Aisa’s armor and she snapped, throwing the Halfling bodily across the room.

“No.” The word resounded like a crack of thunder and Aisa pushed her way out of the study. Lightning danced between her fingers and surged through her veins. A dangerous power that threatened to break free. 

Picking up the pace, she pushed her way out of the estate, wholly focused on reigning in the elemental. Electricity sang through her body in a cacophony of raw energy. It tore at her resolve, aching for release. She pushed power into her steps, teleporting to put distance between herself and the manor. From there she ran, over roads and paths, through fields and forest, until she emerged atop a mountain. She stumbled into the clearing, collapsing to her knees. 

For a brief moment all was still. 

A slow rumble of thunder echoed across the mountaintop. A breeze filtered through the trees, brushing the hair from her eyes. Wind swelled as the ground itself began to tremble, the air thick with the smell of ozone. Power built, pushing against the confines of her soul, begging for release. 

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. How long had she fought to control this rage inside her? Perhaps it was time to give it the freedom it so desired. She took a breath, and then another, and on the third, atop the mountain, Aisa gave in. She surrendered, body and soul, to the primordial.

The elemental tore forth from her core. Lightning sundered the night sky. 

Aisa’s eyes snapped open, glowing a brilliant purple. The wind howled as it whipped through her hair in a frenzied wave. When she stood to her feet, Aisa felt the ancient power meld with her soul. Her blood sang with a violent harmony of energy. Her voice one with the thunder. Every breath drew in time to the beating of the wind, every step heralded by a flash of lighting. Power surged through her, tendrils tearing from her core as lightning seared through the trees. 

In that moment she and the spirit were one. Her own memories and desires giving voice to the elemental entity. The immeasurable power that should have torn her asunder instead wrapped around her being and bent freely to her will. To _their_ will. 

She remained suspended in complete harmony, minutes stretching into lifetimes at the peak of that mountain. Yet in an instant it was done. As she slipped into unconsciousness, Aisa ran her fingers over the wooden token in her hand, thumb brushing along the inscription.

\--

The following morning she awoke to the sound of approaching footsteps and, Kord’s mercy, an incredibly loud shout. 

“Over here! I found her.”

While the steps drew nearer, Aisa struggled through the haze that clung to her mind. She felt the air shift when someone knelt down beside her. With considerable effort she blinked open an eye, only to come face to face with an unfamiliar Deva. She pushed back with a start, panic rising in her chest when she felt her scabbard empty. 

The Deva reached forward, palms out in a placating manner. 

“Peace, Aisa. I’m not here to hurt you.” 

She scoffed and he offered up a reassuring smile, “truly. I came here with a couple of your companions. Maeve, I think it was. And a very large, silent man. I didn’t catch his name. They should be approaching as I speak.”

Aisa eyed him warily, head swimming as she groped for the handle of her craghammer. 

“Maeve… Thought it would be prudent to bring a healer, so I volunteered my services, humble as they might be. It was the least I could do, especially after your display last night with the late Master Trevin.” 

She paused, considering the Deva, “You served Trevin?” 

“Not voluntarily, I assure you.” He said, face scrunched in distaste. 

At that she relaxed. He offered up another smile, and motioned to pouch of herbs at his side, “May I?”

She nodded and allowed his approach. He set to work immediately, beginning with an assortment of herbs, but then quickly transitioning into a series of rudimentary spells. 

“The name’s Mathus, by the way,” he murmured. Aisa grunted in response. He studied her face for a moment before he sighed and pressed a finger to her forehead, mercifully easing some of the throbbing from behind her eyes. 

As Mathus worked, Aisa marveled that she was even alive to receive healing. She’d fully expected to die on that mountaintop, that she hadn’t was an… interesting development. Aside from the scrapes and burns, Aisa felt more whole now that she had in a long time. The rage was still present, and she could feel the primordial in her soul, but it was different now. She no longer had to forcefully assert control. Instead she found a harmonious balance; a peace within the storm. 

Mathus’ voice drew Aisa from her thoughts, “as I said, your companions weren’t too far behind, though they certainly took their time getting here.”

Right on cue, two figures emerged into the clearing. 

“Damn, boss.” Maeve let out a low whistle, hand shading her eyes as she scanned the mountaintop with an amused grin. 

“I mean, we knew you were angry, but this,” she paused, motioning to their scorched surroundings, “this is a bit much, even by your standards.”


End file.
